Within Temptation
by LauraX
Summary: Lucius Malfoy wakes in a Muggle hospital with no clue as to who he is, Harry Potter failed in the 'final battle' and Voldemort is causing havoc to Muggle London as a result, and Lucius is forced to live a Muggle life until he regains his memory.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Harry Potter. Any names you do not recognise however are purely my imagination. This setting is after book seven with the idea that Lucius Malfoy does not escape Azkaban until then and Harry Potter is presumed dead.

This will be Lucius/OC heavy so do not read on if you do not appreciate this.

I appreciate constructive criticism.

Please note that Lucius takes on a new name upon waking in the Muggle hospital. He will be known as James until he regains his memory. (Captain Hook, rawr). He appears a little weak to start off with but his character grows as his health grows.

Insanity was beginning to pool at the bottom of his mind, slowly surfacing at weak moments when complete darkness suffocated him and the moaning of neighbours became too much.

How could one survive in this prison with the company of Dementors, he did not know. But he had been blessed, they flocked to the Dark Lord's side within moments of his capture. Though, the guards had thought of new sick ways of torture.

The will of Lucius Malfoy however, was strong. Though their methods were cruel and unjust, he never spoke, he never winced, he never begged for mercy.

A Malfoy never begged.

The insanity mentioned before was beginning to bubble. Like a blister begging to be popped. Lucius found himself cuddling his knees in the corner, his hair hanging like bunches of straw around his face.

His neighbour was moaning again, but this time, Lucius would not submit. He had to get out of here. His family needed him.

A nearby guard came to Lucius' cell. He unlocked the heavy steel door and slowly pulled it open. The guard was coming to try and break this man once more. The door snapped shut, and darkness covered the pair, hiding the horror of Lucius pouncing on his captor and taking him by surprise as his hands wrapped around the guards neck.

The guard struggled against Lucius, he was strong for someone who had not eaten for a few days. Lucius kept hanging on, his fingers becoming sore, the guard finally ceasing movement. Lucius stood, gazing down at the body. He had killed before, but nothing like this. It felt different to kill without magic. He knew what he had to do then, he stripped the guard. He put on the uniform. He tied his scraggly hair back with a piece of ripped material from his previous clothing. Lucius then picked up the guard's wand, and opened the door, closing it. He knew how dangerous it was to use another's wand but it was a risk he was willing to take.

He then started at a run down the corridor, which he thought was the way out.

Lucius knew the only way that he could get out of here successfully was to obtain his own wand. They were stored in a secure area, guarded and warded. He would need to sneak in, break down the wards to the best of his ability and take his own wand. It would be hard.

Lucius continued down the corridor. The guards he passed didn't recognise him. They didn't work on his level. He figured in order to be less noticed, he would only kill guards that recognised him. No sense causing more to go after him with a wand that wasn't his own.

Lucius took a breath when he approached the wand storage area.

"You new here?" One of the guards asked.

"Yeah", replied Lucius, putting on a different accent that wasn't as refined as his own. It made him feel dirty, but, it was something. "Just need to destroy one of the wands in there. A prisoner on the upper level died".

"Oh? Which one?" The guard folded his arms, eyeing Lucius suspiciously.

"Atkins". He answered quickly, recalling the name of his neighbour. "Better do it quickly before my supervisor asks questions".

"All right, very well. We're going to go on break. Remember to lock up when you're done". The guard removed the wards. Several different phases took place, shades of colour appearing when each ward was removed. The grates disappeared.

The guards moved off. Lucius moved in. He moved quickly. Throwing boxes on the ground. Pushing ones aside. Finally, he found it. His beloved wand. The air glowed around him when Lucius made contact with it. He heard voices. They were coming back. Lucius snapped the other wand in half and quickly looked for a place to hide. He'd attack the guards from behind. Lucius noticed a corner nearby. He darted behind it.

"I should have known!" The guard shouted. "I knew I recognised that face from somewhere!"

"Malfoy's escaped? But how?"

"Go to his cell, he obviously stole that uniform. Make sure he doesn't escape!"

Lucius knew he'd have to kill them now. He stepped out from behind the corner, wand drawn. His beloved cane was in the safe hands of his wife, he longed to caress the smooth wood that had been in the family for generations. Before the guards had time to pull out their wands, Lucius had killed them both. Swiftly. He now had to leave the prison.

What happened before was just the easy part.

By now the guards had been alerted that Lucius had escaped. There were too many wards for him to try and Apparate. He'd be killed. Lucius had to get outside, to the lake, he'd be safe there. He was running as fast as his aching legs could carry him. He slipped his wand into his back pocket and grabbed onto the fence… and was shot back off again, his hands burning.

Lucius winced as he rubbed his hands on his sides, looking at them. No scarring. Must be some sort of spell to frighten people away from jumping the fence. He could hear the siren blaring in the background. Lucius grit his teeth and focused on what the spell could possibly be. He searched through every spell he had ever learnt. They were getting closer now. Lucius pulled his wand out and called upon the counter curse. The gate glowed for a minute and returned to normal. He put his wand in his back pocket and climbed the fence, feet slipping against the wet metal, and he slid his body over the top and carefully climbed down to the bottom. But he slipped about half way and landed hard on his back. He groaned, and got up, feeling something in his side. A branch had stabbed him. At least his wand was all right. No time to heal here. He took off at a run, feeling the rushing of the guards coming up to the fence and quickly attempting to unlock it. Lucius was far ahead now, feeling his blood trickle down his side, into his pants. He felt weak. He kept running. Through trees. Bushes. Bare skin being scraped against. Then suddenly he came to a road. He saw headlights. He rolled away from them. The car skidded to a stop.

It was the last thing he heard before darkness blanketed him.

"Help me get him into the car, Thomas". A woman's voice called as she scurried to Lucius' side. She could hear approaching voices. "Quickly!"

Thomas, the woman's younger brother, grabbed Lucius' legs. The woman grabbed him under the shoulders. They then hoisted him to the back seat of their car.

"I'll keep an eye on him, drive to the hospital". She propped Lucius' head on her lap. She didn't want to remove the branch in the event it had pierced an organ and cause even more blood loss. So, she took off her jumper and used it to pressurise the wound.

"You do know that's Azkaban prison in the middle of nowhere, right?" Thomas called, spying his sister through the rear vision mirror. "He could be a wanted criminal".

"No. He's wearing a guards uniform. Just drive, Thomas". She felt around him for ID of any sort. She pulled the wand from his back pocket. "How many prisoners carry wands with them?" She asked, lifting it up for Thomas to see in the rear vision mirror.

"I still don't like it". He murmured, it would be a long drive to the hospital. They were camping for the weekend. "I know you're Muggle, sis, but you simply don't understand…"

"Hey, don't you go on with your I'm a wizard therefore I'm better than you tripe". She set the wand on the floor of her car as she continued to apply pressure to Lucius' wound. He was moaning. "Drive as fast as you can and use your Jedi mind trick on any police that pull us over or something".

"Don't be a moron". He snapped, and they continued the rest of the trip in silence.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two.

I apologise for the formatting, I can never seem to get it right. Same disclaimer as before. Insert OC love here.

Draco lovers, he'll be in this chapter, don't worry.

Slowly, he became aware of the world around him. The air smelt clean and fresh. Something soft covered his body. Something was stuck to his arm. His finger. His chest. His… down there.

Pale grey-blue eyes slowly opened. Blinking once or twice to adjust to the dull light of the room. He could feel something covering his nose and mouth. He raised a hand to remove it, pulling it down so it sat upon his chin. He felt drowsy, hungry, and dopey.

"Hello?" His voice croaked, turning his head slightly to find that he was alone. These things felt so unfamiliar to him. "Is anyone there?" He called again, this time his voice being carried somewhat easier. He cleared his throat, coughing, and feeling something rise that tasted foul as he swallowed it again.

"Oh good, you're awake". A chirpy, young voice entered the room. "Now, now, don't go pulling at those drips. You need those to sustain the blood you lost".

He let his hand sit by his side as a young woman removed the mask from his face. "I'm Charlotte, or Charlie, as the elderly patients like to call me. How are you feeling?"

His eyes shifted to gaze at this kind-faced woman. She couldn't have been older than twenty. Her skin was snow-white, lips rosy red, eyes a deep, emerald green and hair a pale blonde.

Suddenly, he realised something. What was his name? His mind came to a blank when he questioned this.

"I don't know my name". He said, slowly at first, in a steady tone.

"It's all right. It will only be temporary. The doctor says it's a result of the sudden blood loss. But you know the strangest thing, we can't find a thing about you. You've got no dental records yet perfect teeth. I really envy you, mister". She smiled and drew a bowl of water as she then picked up a sponge.

He watched as the sponge filled with water and she let it slide across his face, gently.

"What do you mean by dental records?" He asked. The words were so unfamiliar, he felt it wasn't because of his loss of memory but another part of him really did not know.

"Ah", she started, raising his head a little, and wiping around the back of his neck. "Well, it's a way we can identify you. Everyone has different sets of teeth, much like fingerprints. When you go to the dentist, an x-ray is taken of your teeth. Oh and in case you're wondering, a dentist is someone who can fix those teeth of yours to make sure they don't fall out". She carefully wiped down his arm. Eyes fell upon a strange looking tattoo that was quite dark against his pale skin. Fingers lightly held his wrist.

"Nice design". She muttered, swearing she saw the snake in the skull head moving slightly against her touch. "My brother would kill for something like that".

Something irked inside this man's stomach, he felt insulted, but didn't understand why. His lips merely turned into a scowl.

She noticed this. "My apologies. I did not mean to offend".

She finished washing him and made a note on his chart. "What shall I call you by, then? John Doe is far too common".

He paused for a moment. He noticed a stack of magazines on the seat beside him. One had the face of a fairly attractive man about his own age, with dark hair and eyes. He caught the name. James.

"James".

"Same as my father". She smiled a little. "All right, James. If you want to move the bed, you can do so by pressing these buttons…" She moved to the side and demonstrated as the bed was slightly elevated. She propped up his pillows afterward. "This one is for the television", she pushed it and pointed up to a black box hanging from the ceiling. "This is for the volume, this is for the channel. If you need me or any assistance, push the red button behind your bed. The loo is just down the end of your room".

All these words, they were so unfamiliar. He looked at her puzzled. "None of these words make sense to me".

"They will in time. Lunch will be soon, I hope you're hungry. I took the liberty of ordering for you. Warm chicken salad, a pear, coffee and water". Charlie heard something down the hall. "Your doctor will be checking on you soon. Take it easy". She wandered out of the room.

James felt this information had been absorbed all too quickly. He lifted the remote control to his left side and looked up at the television. Strange. People in a box. He turned up the volume a few notches just enough to hear the voices. He then flicked the channel.

A news report. Something horrifying happening in downtown London. Some sort of attack. Countless dead. A strange mark in the sky. His brow furrowed. The mark in the sky was the same as the mark on his arm.

Who was he?

Draco Malfoy had nearly caused a hole to form in the floor. He'd been pacing quite harshly, brow knitted in thought, eyes narrowing in mere frustration. Somehow, his father had disappeared from the face of the earth. The Dark Lord could not even locate him. This was getting serious.

Draco was now eighteen years old. He was quickly resembling his father, perhaps with not the same attitude, but looks were near identical. He had soft, silver locks just dancing above his shoulder blades as he paced, and wore thick, black velvet robes that were snug against his frame. He came to a sudden halt when the door was pushed open and his Aunt waltzed in, acting like she owned the place as usual. Since the disappearance of his father, she'd become the Dark Lord's new pet, putting his trust in her for leading all the attacks. He was jealous. If only he hadn't been foolish and not let Snape kill Dumbledore those years ago…

"What now, Aunt Bellatrix?" Draco snarled, his pacing turning to long strides as he stood within a meter from his ageing aunt. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Oh I'm sorry my dear nephew. Did I interrupt your brooding?" Bellatrix snickered and flopped upon Lucius's favourite chair. "How does it feel? To own all this?"

"None of your business". Draco turned his back on her now, placing his gloved hands behind his back. "Why don't you do something useful for a change and help find my father?"

"He's dead, Draco. Admit it. You just want your dear daddy back so you can look good in the Dark Lord's eyes again". Bellatrix shook her head. "The Dark Lord has been trying to contact him through the Mark. There has been no answer. Your father has always answered his Call".

He quickly faced her and raised a finger. Lips pursed until they were white. He swallowed all insults. The finger folded into his clenched fist. "Leave me be. Do not return until you have something useful to say".

"Suit yourself. So, what shall I tell the Dark Lord, then? That Draco Malfoy does not want to lead this next assault because he's acting like a spoilt child?" Bellatrix rose to her feet, waiting for a reaction from the young man. Lips lifted into a smirk. "I'm sure he'd love to hear it".

"Wait". Draco called after her, turning his head, as Bellatrix slowly rotated to face him. "What does he require of me?"

"Oh you'll know. Come on. He's waiting".


	3. Chapter 3

Same disclaimer as before. Chapter Three.

Potter fans don't fret. Harry will appear in time.

"Can I ask you a question?" James queried as Charlie was running a brush through his long, silver locks.

"Of course".

"Has anyone claimed responsibility for the attacks on London today?"

Charlie went quiet for a moment. She looked up at the screen. The same dark haired man and dark eyes James saw in the magazine was making a statement. "I don't think so. The normal terror groups have been quiet. Even they can't explain what happened. This is very different… like… some of the things that people have witnessed appear supernatural. Magical".

"Magical?" Replied James with raised brows.

"Yes, you know, abracadabra…" Charlie waved the brush around as if it were a wand. She stopped with James turned to glare at her, and she continued to brush his hair. "Sorry. I've always wanted to be a wizard, ever since I were little".

"I need to ask you something else".

"Go ahead".

"Were you the one that nearly hit me on the road?"

Charlie's eyebrows shot up into her hair. "You remember that?"

"A little". He mumbled.

"My brother was driving, but we brought you here when we found you".

"I need you to do something for me". James let Charlie's comment slide, it didn't seem to matter to him "Can you cover this somehow?" He pointed to the tattoo.

"I can get someone to remove it. But it will hurt and cause some scarring, why do you want it covered?"

"It's just a request, why can't you do as I ask?" He snapped, Charlie looked offended.

"All right, Geesh, keep your pants on. I'll go get some bandages". She set the brush on his side table and wandered out.

James shook his head. He hated insolence. Yet there was something about Charlie that was slowly beginning to captivate him.

He looked back up at the television. The dark haired man, James Davidson, was still talking. James lifted the remote control to turn the television a little louder.

"…and so I am advising anyone in the city to evacuate to the country until we receive word from these terrorists and understand their demands. All city hospitals will receive aid from the military in transporting their patients. My family and I however, will remain".

Charlie froze in the doorway, clutching a roll of bandage. She returned to James' side, seating herself on a nearby chair and gently wrapped the bandage over his tattoo.

"Do you know that man?" He asked, noticing how quiet she had become.

"Yes''. Charlie sighed. "He's my father. The Prime Minister of this country. But we had a falling out a few years ago, we don't talk much".

James opened his mouth to say something, but then reconsidered. A part of him wanted to get to know this young one better. To use as leverage. Another part didn't understand why.

"It's all right, you don't need to say anything". Charlie pinned the bandage together. "There. Is that too tight?"

"No". James turned his head back to face the television. They were doing live reports from the city. Several people could be seen wearing long, black cloaks and bone-white masks. All were holding thin sticks of wood and different coloured lights were being thrown everywhere.

"Oh no, excuse me a minute…" Charlie rushed out of the ward, leaving James wondering what was going on.

Why did all of this seem so familiar to him?

"You must follow through with this order, Draco. Do you understand?"

Draco slowly nodded his head. "I do, Master. What is it that you require of me?"

"I fear your father has been taken by Muggles. He is still alive". The Dark Lord slowly seated himself upon a large, high back chair. "The Mark has been covered. You need to find him before he forgets who he is, who he serves. Kill any Muggles you come across in your travels. They will pay for this".

"Where is he, Master?" Draco said softly, knowing how strong his father was, but after being in Azkaban for several years he wasn't sure how much he had changed.

"London. Gather some of the newcomers. Disguise yourselves as Muggle Policemen. That way, they will be more willing to answer your questions. Leave".

Draco rose, and left the room, knowing what he had to do.

"Looks like you're in the clear". Charlie said with a smile the next morning. "Everything appears to be settling down, but someone will need to keep an eye on you about that memory loss". She lifted up a plastic bag. "I uh, hope you don't mind, I bought you some clothes".

"You needn't buy things for me. I am not a poor Muggle". His face was clenched, angered.

Charlie blinked. "What did you say?"

"I said… I am not a poor Muggle".

"Where have I heard that word before?" She pondered, and shrugged. "Look, until you find out who you are you're just going to have to be waited upon". Charlie threw the bag into James' lap. "By the way. Insulting me isn't going to do any good, I've had my fair share of that from other patients so don't think you're any different".

James completely ignored her as he shifted through the bag. Inside was a pair of jeans and a short sleeved, collared, navy blue shirt.

"I offered to take care of you until your memory returns. Were you ignoring me?"

"Oh be quiet you impudent little…" He turned and looked at her. "…what did you say?"

"I said, I offered to take care of you until your memory returns. I have a spare room". She folded her arms. "Otherwise, you can stay here, but with that attitude of yours I don't know if any of the other nurses will take it as easily as I have".

James shook his head. He smirked. "Live with you?" A pause followed as he pulled the shirt from the plastic bag, gazing upon it, nose turning up as if he were a child presented with a plate of vegetables. "I'm not sure what would be worse".

"Take it or leave it. But believe me. Nurse Jacobson has hands as rough as sandpaper, and will be glad to feel you up if given the chance". Charlie quickly shut her mouth. She turned for the door.

"Fine". James snapped after her. "But when I get my memory back, don't expect me to come crawling back with a word of thanks".

"Fine with me". She left him, slamming the door shut.

James couldn't help but grin as he pushed back the covers on his body. The woman had a temper. He slowly found his footing again, and stripped of his hospital gown. He could see the bandage around his stomach, and as he looked at himself in the mirror he obtained an odd sort of flashback.

He looked the same as he did now. Pristine locks. Clasping a fine cane. Wearing an expensive set of robes. The image returned to the present.

James shook his head. He assumed it wouldn't be long before his memory returned.


	4. Chapter 4

The Prime Minister set aside a rather thick manila file. Hands raised to his temples, which he rubbed in anguish, lips pursed, eyes closed. The public wasn't ready to know about the Wizards. But he had no choice. No sooner had he reached for his two-hour old coffee, a small amount spilt on his tie when he heard a little voice chirp "Please prepare for the arrival of the Minister for Magic".

The damn portrait was talking again, for the third time this week.

He sighed and pulled a tissue from the box, dabbing at his tie, knowing his wife was not going to be pleased with yet again another coffee stain to clean.

James Davidson was rather attractive for his age, the typical tall, dark and handsome while his wife was petite, short and blonde. She was quite the scatterbrain though, but he still loved her very much.

James looked up, spying the sudden arrival of a figure in the middle of his office. It was a new Minister this time, quite short and stumpy with cheeks tinged with a shade of pink. He wore a set of robes with a high collar too close to his chubby neck, and this new Minister made the Prime Minister quite nervous. He swallowed.

"Oh dear me, I am sorry that I am the bearer of bad news". The Minister said with a sigh, as he sat himself down and shook his head, tut tutting under his breath. "Not only are the Death Eaters attacking Muggle London, but a very dangerous Death Eater has vanished from Azkaban".

"Not another one!" The Prime Minister exclaimed. "Don't you people understand security?"

"Oh yes! We do! But he was quite crafty… very crafty indeed…"

"So get on with it. I need to come up with a statement to address to the nation by tonight that is believable and will stop mass panic".

"Just tell them the truth". The Minister said with a sigh of concern. "Tell them about our two worlds. I understand your son is a Wizard…"

"Yes. He is. But Thomas…"

"Is a very gifted young boy. He has been accepted as an Auror. I hope you are proud of him".

"Very… but…"

"The public needs to know what they are up against! A bullet may be faster than a wand, but, for someone who does not own a weapon…"

"These Death Eaters have killed hundreds. They've flooded our subways. I've seen these horrid things floating around making everyone depressed. We need some sort of defence, Minister. If you do not provide it for us then our relationship will not be as rosy as it has been in the past! I've had enough of these constant Azkaban breakouts, the lies I have to tell my people… The QUEEN. She's getting suspicious, you know". He wagged a finger at the Minister who was shocked. "Asking all sorts of questions".

"Well", the Minister mumbled, swallowing, running a finger along his collar to free its grasp from his neck, "She is a squib…"

"A what?"

"Someone meant to be magical but can't be".

"I don't think our Majesty would like to hear that! She finds being called old offensive, imagine what she'd say to THAT".

"But…but… Prime Minister, you need to understand that the public must know what is attacking them. He-who-must-not-be-named will not make a public appearance… he won't negotiate… he can't be stopped…"

"Well surely, there must be someone out there who can at least try?"

"There was one". The Minister wiped at his brow with a handkerchief that he pulled from his sleeve. "But he's missing. He who must… oh… he attacked us, and the boy… we think he's dead…"

"What is his name?" The Prime Minister grumbled.

"Harry Potter".

The taller man stood upright. "You say he's dead?"

"We believe so".

"He can't be. He's been working here for the last year".

"What?"

"Annabel, bring Harry to my office, please". The Prime Minister paged. "See for yourself". He gestured to the door. It opened. In the doorway, was a very smart looking Harry Potter, still bearing that scar, the messy black hair, those glasses, and emerald green eyes.

"Oh no, bugger off…" Harry said quite suddenly and made a break for the door.

"Potter if you leave you're fired!" The Prime Minister shouted after him.

Harry froze in mid step. He turned, glaring at the Minister for Magic who was beside himself with joy. He ran to Harry and gathered him in a big bear hug.

"Oh my boy, my dear boy… you have no idea how pleased I am to see you…"

"Can't say the same about you". Grumbled Harry, pushing himself free from the chubby Minister. "I'm not fighting Voldemort again. Not after what happened last time".

"We need your help, Harry. He's killing hundreds and we don't know how to stop him. Muggle weapons are defenceless. You're the one prophesised…"

"Stuff that. I didn't kill him last time, did I?"

"No. But, you will this time, I can feel it. Please, Harry. Consider it. Watch the news reports. Read the papers. Lucius Malfoy has escaped Azkaban". The Minister paused, waiting for Harry's reaction, knowing how much the boy despised the Malfoy family.

"Fine". Harry said through grit teeth, fists clenched. "But I want to lead the team. I'm not going to have it be messed up and everyone doing their own thing like last time. Half of my friends were killed because of your Aurors and their disrespect".

"Understand Harry, understand. Oh my boy. You're going to save the world. For real".

Harry hated the sound of that, but he looked at the Prime Minister, and then realised he had once again a huge load upon his shoulders.

Draco pulled on the Muggle clothing with lack of interest. The mere sight of it was enough to disgust him, and the Dark Lord had given him permission to obliterate a Muggle memory if things became too heated for him when questioning the whereabouts of his father. Such as, those who avoid the topic.

He hated those types.

Draco looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was rather pleased with how he looked. He had magically changed his hair so it wasn't long, but cut neat and short. He could always change it back. He looked behind him at the bunch of bumbling recruits, even Crabbe and Goyle had followed him like the dumber-than-sheep pair that they were.

"Crabbe, you're eighteen. Do you still require help to dress?"

"Just this tieee…" He whined.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Use a spell you dimwit".

"Oh, right".

"How you managed to pass Hogwarts I never know…" He waited until the group were ready. It took another half hour for Crabbe to figure out where to put his wand. Goyle was busy posing in the mirror. Draco shook his head, and they were soon on the move to Muggle London, hunting around apartments that the Dark Lord had suggested to look at.

"Well, this is it". Charlie said, the same car that had encountered James a month or so ago pulled up outside a block of apartments that were quite old, and a few stories high. "Not much, I know".

James eyed the housing establishment with a sneer, he wasn't the least bit impressed, and he hated thinking of sleeping on some mouldy old mattress with a scratchy old blanket and some slobbery beast licking his face of a morning.

"What'd you expect?" She mumbled. "The four seasons?"

"Considering your father is the Prime Minister…" James said under his breath.

Charlie snapped her head around to face him. "We're estranged, for your valued interest. I pay my own bills from my own wages. I have never asked a cent from him, yet he feeds my brother on a daily basis… because he's a…"

"He's a what?" James pressed.

Charlie took a breath and sighed. "I can't tell you here. You wouldn't believe me. Come on, let's get you inside… don't worry about the lifts, they're a bit rickety. Known to stop on some occasions".

"Looking forward to it". James' tone edging on sarcasm and concern, it's bad enough he was going to share a flat with this woman but to be stuck in a lift with her as well wasn't on the top of his list.

Charlie then drove the car to the back of the apartment block where their parking lot thankfully remained empty. She helped James get out of the car as he was having difficulty extracting the seat belt from its buckle, and opening the door. It was a rather amusing sight.

She led him into the lobby, throwing a wave to the guard at the door. James didn't follow too closely, he wanted to take in as much as he could.

Charlie pushed the button to the lift.

"Everything all right?" She asked him, turning her head a little.

"Swimmingly". James retorted, once again hinting with sarcasm.

The lift doors opened and a few people wandered out. Charlie and James entered the lift, Charlie pressing a button for the third floor, and it took a few moments for the doors to rattle shut.

It was an odd sensation for James, watching the different floors pass as the lift rose. Eventually it came to a halt, and Charlie led him down a grubby, carpeted hall to a door at the end. She shuffled around her purse for her keys, and pulled out one with a long piece of red wool on the end so she wouldn't lose it.

"Well, here it is". She pushed open the door.

Much to James' surprise, the apartment was quite neat. The furniture looked pleasing, a fairly comfy looking lounge in the middle of the lounge room, and another one of those boxes called a television, but it was fairly big and flat. He could see the kitchen to the right, old lino flooring that was peeling, a shiny refrigerator, sink and dishwasher. She had a stove to the left, the kitchen itself was quite small.

James wandered inside and noticed a few family photographs on the walls. He saw two doors down the back of the apartment and to the left. Then he saw a little hallway and a partially open door that looked like the bathroom.

"Like I told you, it's not much but I'm still living". Charlie smiled.

"Where is my bedroom?" James asked, and Charlie gestured with her hand to the room to the far left.

"It's that one. Some of my brother's things are in there as he stays in here sometimes, but his clothes should fit you. I don't think he'd mind. Oh, and he's coming for dinner tonight… so just pretend that you're an old friend or something". Charlie tossed her purse on the lounge and headed to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. "You want anything?"

"No". James was quite eager to meet this brother of hers. "What were you saying about your brother before we came here?"

Charlie frowned, clasping her glass a little tighter. "You better sit down".


End file.
